Sofie, Take One
by Wilusa
Summary: First of two short, very different 'Sofie in the cornfield' fics.


DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

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She knew she was dreaming.

In her dream, she was running back and forth in, of all places, the cornfield, in the middle of the night. Someone was calling her name, over and over: "Sofie!_ So-feee!_" But the voice was so distorted that she couldn't tell whether it was male or female, let alone friend or foe. So she didn't know whether she should run toward or away from it - and she'd lost all sense of direction, anyway.

She remembered having bizarre experiences before she'd found herself running through the corn. She'd learned Justin Crowe was her rapist father - the man she'd sworn to kill, if she ever met him. On top of that, she'd realized that both Justin and she herself possessed terrifying supernatural powers.

All part of the dream, of course.

It _had to_ be part of the dream.

She paused, panting, in her flight. _Why can't I wake up? I want this to be over!_

"Sofie! Sofie!" The voice sounded closer. _And there's less distortion,_ she realized. _I'm pretty sure it's a man._

But she wanted only to escape. She began trying to drown the voice out, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Wake up, Sofie! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

And suddenly, she _was_ awake.

Though at first she refused to believe it. _No, no, this can't be real..._

But it was. She truly was lying on a hard wooden floor, with her hands tied behind her back. The crude construction of the shed allowed light to enter between the slats, but its only source now was the moon.

So the first part of her nightmare was real. And hours had passed since she'd been overwhelmed by the emergence of her inner self.

Tears stung her eyes. _I passed out! All that time wasted! Damned weakling. If I'd had the guts to pull myself together, I know I could have gotten my hands free and escaped. I could have gone after that son-of-a-bitch Justin, teamed up with Ben -_

Ben. She realized now that he was also a Being of Power, though perhaps not exactly the same as either her or Justin. He had to be. And that explained so much!

_Ben. Oh my God, what's happening to him?_

Suddenly, while she was fully conscious, she heard his voice mutter, "Sofie..."

_Ben!_

Too late, she understood.

For all those hours, she'd been having premonitions she'd failed to recognize, _refused_ to recognize. Ben was in the cornfield, _now_. He'd spoken her name. He wasn't calling her, not consciously, though he did need help. He was about to be killed, and he was asking Justin to _spare __**her!**_

She gave a despairing shriek.

But then the defiant core of her nature cried out, _No! It's not too late. I'm not giving up. I can help him, and I will!_

In a flash, she was back in the cornfield. With Ben. Or rather, her spirit was there, though she knew her body was still in the shed.

She saw that Ben had one last chance. He'd been felled by an abdominal wound, and Justin had foolishly paused to look up to the heavens, gloating over his triumph. But the blade of Ben's dagger lay in the grass on his left. He could only seize his opportunity by reaching it, and wielding it, left-handed. And his left arm was weakened by a slash wound.

Ben was no more ready to give up than was Sofie. Clinging to consciousness, he reached out and grasped the blade.

Without understanding how she did it, she poured her strength into him. She didn't "possess" him, didn't take his place in the fight; she doubted he even sensed she was there. But when he lunged at Justin, it was with the last reserves of his own strength and every iota of Sofie's.

Justin went down.

He was still alive. And somehow, both Ben and Sofie found more within themselves. As their combined strength drove the dagger home, the exultant Sofie thought along with Ben, "Plunge thee deep!"

Justin died.

Ben fell unconscious on the body of his foe.

And Sofie was swept into a shattering vision. She saw what was about to happen - what now _was_ happening, with her, an insubstantial wraith, powerless to prevent it. She saw what it meant, what would happen as a result -

Then she was back in her body, tied up on the floor of the shed. She was utterly spent. But as she sank into unconsciousness, she was silently screaming _**Nooooo!**_

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"Sofie! Sofie!"

Reviving, she knew at once that this time, the urgent voice wasn't Ben's.

She would have identified it in another second, but she didn't have to. "It's me, Jonesy. You okay? Hold on, hold on - don't move." He was untying her bonds. Momentarily dazed, she lay quietly and let him do it.

Then she remembered the terrible event she'd foreseen. With a rush of adrenalin, she realized, _It doesn't have to happen!_ _I have the power to prevent it. And yes, there is still time._

Jonesy helped her to her feet. "Let's get you outta here. C'mon...that's it." Guiding her out of the shed, he warned, "Watch your step."

She looked down, and stepped carefully over an unconscious Varlyn Stroud. A gun lay beside him. A gun he'd undoubtedly brought to kill _her_, on Justin's orders - but none of that mattered now.

_Jonesy will try to stop me. He'd never understand. If I give him a chance, he'll drag me back to the carnival._

_Jonesy..._

She didn't see him as a man who was risking his life to save hers - for the second time. What she remembered was his having led her on, then balked at the prospect of having sex. Just like her mother, he'd made her feel ugly, unwanted, and unloved.

He'd made some feeble excuse about the difference in their ages. About his having filled in for her absent father when she was a child. But other carnies didn't let age differences stand in their way! Lodz must have been twenty years older than Lila. And Ruthie was at least thirty years older than Ben, but she'd set her cap for him without a moment's hesitation.

Jonesy had dealt Sofie a crushing blow by rejecting her and turning to Rita Sue - a married woman, and a whore. She'd retaliated by doing something to hurt him. But then she'd humbled herself and apologized, taking all the blame; he'd spurned her apology and her love.

And finally, before she left Carnivale, she'd seen him getting chummy with Libby. That was the ultimate insult: mother-and-daughter whores, the younger one no nearer Jonesy's age than she herself was.

_What a contrast with Ben. _

Ben had been uncivil to everyone in the beginning. But later, he'd shown her the tenderness and compassion she'd yearned for all her life.

_He wouldn't want me to do this, either,_ she thought sadly_. What I'm about to do now, or what will follow. _

_But Ben isn't here._

Jonesy muttered, "Shit. Keys," and went back to retrieve a key ring from the shed door, where one of the keys was still in the lock.

She bent and scooped up Stroud's gun.

Jonesy turned, saw her, and went rigid. "Sofie - _don't!_"

She shot him without batting an eye. Then she stepped over his prone form as easily as she had Stroud's, claimed the keys, and headed for Stroud's car.

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Daybreak found her lurking near Justin's huge revival tent, where she'd spent most of the night. Only a few feet from the edge of the cornfield.

Her heart ached for Ben - still out there, badly wounded. But she knew, in the same eerie way she'd known other things, that he wasn't suffering. There was no chance he would regain consciousness, _or_ die, while he was sprawled over Justin's body.

_He's safer there than anywhere else, till the carnies find him. I'm sure Samson won't leave without him. But I wish they'd hurry up! Rescue him and get out of here._

She was sickened by the thought of what she planned to do after that. But with the decision made, she wanted to do it and get it over with.

She didn't have to wait long. She watched as Samson led a group of carnies into the cornfield - and noted that Ruthie was the only woman among them. _So she still loves Ben. That's good._

_Do I love him too?_

Ironically, she'd never really thought about it. But she supposed she did.

The searchers found him, and she heard Samson call out excitedly, "He's alive!" Gabriel lifted him off Justin, and after what Sofie guessed was some discussion about applying pressure to his wound, a solemn little procession bore him out of the cornfield.

_Now I wonder how long they'll wait for Jonesy?_ Her only emotion was concern about the delay._ Can't be helped. There's no way they'll find him._

Samson undoubtedly believed the carnival would be in danger if it lingered until the New Canaanites' shock wore off. Only another half hour passed before the trucks began pulling out - at least temporarily abandoning not only Jonesy, but the Ferris wheel.

Sofie took a deep breath. Then she emerged from the shadow of the tent and walked into the corn.

She made her way, unerringly, to the body of her hated father. Standing over him, she consoled herself with the thought that she _had_ helped to kill him. _I'll always have that memory._

_But oh, how I wish I could find that blade of Ben's, and cut him into bits! _

Instead, she dropped to her knees and laid her hands on his chest. Closing her eyes, she willed that Justin Crowe be restored to life, and accepted whatever death toll - of plants, animals, or humans - would be required to bring that about.

She kept her eyes closed. But nothing could shield her from the knowledge of what she'd done. She felt the death of every cornstalk...every sparrow...every one of the hundreds of Justin's disciples consumed by a spreading circle of death.

She felt _him_ return to life, heard his startled gasp.

But she only opened her eyes when he said in amazement, _"Sofie?"_

"Yes."

"What - what happened?" He was already on his feet, gazing around at a ruined landscape. The blade of Ben's dagger had worked itself partly out of his chest; he pulled it the rest of the way out, and the wound closed without leaving a trace. "I was dead," he said in bewilderment, looking at the bloody weapon - and then, finally, at her. "You should be dead, too."

"You _were_ dead," she confirmed dully. "I never was. I brought you back to life."

"That's -"

"Impossible? No. I'm your daughter. The same type of creature you are. I brought you back to life, and killed some of your 'flock' in the process." She shrugged. "Sorry about that."

Justin didn't seem concerned for his flock. "How could I have a daughter? Unless -" He broke off, and she knew what he was remembering.

Getting to her feet, she said bitterly, "I think you've nailed it."

"The Gypsy. Apollonia."

"Yes. The one you raped." She turned away from him.

"Wait!" He grabbed her arm. "I don't understand how you had the power to bring me back, daughter or no daughter. But you obviously did.

"What I want to know is, _why_ did you do it? You don't have any love for me. The last time I saw you, you refused to join me!"

"That's right." She looked up at him, and flashed a wicked smile. "I'll give you a clue. I brought you back to life for the same reason I refused to join you."

"What?" He was befuddled, as she'd expected. "Brought me back to life...for the same reason you _refused_ to join me? That's ridiculous! Is it some kind of riddle?" Scowling, he demanded, "What exactly _was_ the reason?"

She thought of yanking her arm free, saying, "You figure it out," and walking away. But he wouldn't be able to figure it out; and in a perverse way, she wanted him to know. To know that her reason had nothing to do with _him_.

She did yank her arm free.

Then she said quietly, "All right. I'll tell you. The reason I wouldn't join you was that I refused to accept Ben's dying. You meant to kill him."

Justin pondered that, then said, "Yes. But I still don't see -"

"Why I brought you back, after _he'd_ killed _you? _I helped him do it, by the way. I was here, in some kind of spirit form." She enjoyed seeing Justin's features contort in fury. "But then...I can't explain how I know all this. I just do.

"Ben passed out, fell on top of you. And some of your blood seeped into his open wound. In effect, it poisoned him." She _didn't_ enjoy his visible glee at that.

"Within hours after our kind die," she continued, "our dead bodies either ascend to Heaven, or descend to Hell. I knew your body couldn't go anywhere while Ben was lying on top of you, alive. But when it did...if you stayed dead long enough for your body to disappear, _he_ would die too. Because of the blood. And then it wouldn't be possible to bring either of you back.

"I believed Ben would wind up in Heaven, not Hell. But I still couldn't let it happen. He's only nineteen -"

"And you're in love with him!" Justin's leer made her wish she hadn't told him.

"No!"

"So you've saved his life." Justin was smiling. "Has it occurred to you to wonder how else that poisoned blood may affect him?"

"I don't care how it will affect him." _But...is it my imagination that the sky's gotten unnaturally dark in the last few minutes?_

"No, I suppose you don't." Still smiling. "I believe you _are_ my daughter."

A flash of lightning was followed by a near-deafening clap of thunder. The wind picked up, and Sofie felt the first drops of rain. Before another minute had passed, it was coming down in buckets, with gale-force wind threatening to sweep her off her feet.

She managed to say, "Wh-what's happening?" Then she _was_ blown off her feet, only to be grabbed and steadied by Justin. Impossibly, they were now being pelted with hail. The wind seemed already to have risen to hurricane strength: trees were being uprooted, the New Canaanites' flimsy shacks torn apart. A resounding crash told Sofie the Ferris wheel had blown over. And as she screamed in terror, the giant revival tent was shredded and blown away.

"You're doing this!" she yelled furiously at Justin. By now they were both on the ground, Justin sheltering her with his broad body.

"I almost wish I could take credit for it, but I can't." He too had to yell, to be heard over the howling wind. But despite being drenched and breathless, he still sounded amused. "I've never raised a storm. I'm sure I could, but it would require full concentration. Do you really believe I could wreak all the havoc we're seeing while carrying on a conversation with you?"

No, she didn't. _But I know I'm not doing it..._

"You needn't worry," he assured her. "It can't harm either of us. But if you left a few thousand of my flock alive, don't count on their staying that way. It really is an impressive demonstration of power!"

"But who...why...?" _God in Heaven, it can't be what I'm thinking. It can't!_

Justin's laugh curdled her blood. Bending close to her ear, he said softly, "I'm afraid I am to blame, in a way. You see, my dear, I was under the impression Brother Varlyn had succeeded in killing you, and I told young Ben you were dead.

"He seems to be somewhat peeved."

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The End


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